


Another Tale from the Band Room

by Chihibabe



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Expect small cameo's from some characters., Hinted at past Washalina, I don't think there'll be anything bad in here, Multi, Slight cussing but it's RvB
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chihibabe/pseuds/Chihibabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard Simmons is an incoming freshman into Blood Gulch High School, and an incoming freshman into the school's marching band. He was, at first, excited to be apart of the marching band, but that was before he met the strict head field commander, getting teased by his section leader, and the one obnoxious saxophonist named Grif. Dexter Grif just wanted to get high school over, and get out of the school marching band, not caring as much about how well he does in band like the freshman who seems to berate him after his shyness disappear, but why do the two of them seem to stick around each other after their sections have a combined sectional?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet the Members

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own RvB or Halo, or any merchandise from both, which I'm kinda sad about the last one.

     A young teenager, around the age of fifteen, stepped into the Blood Gulch High School band room, the smell of cleaned brass and fresh woodwind pads sharp in the room. He looked around, music for his show in his hands as he searched for his section, the pit. The pit was a nice group, filled with a few nice kids that he had met over percussion camp, but now there was other sections in the small room. The alto saxophones were already laughing loudly, the loudest being a Lavernius Tucker, the dark skinned male's laugh could be heard clear across the band room, and the silks were already yelling at each other. The boy sighed, moving to his section to stand quietly, waiting for instruction.  
      This boy's name is Richard Simmons, preferring being Simmons to Richard, he was excited to be in the marching band. The marching band, titled the Bloody Band of Blood Gulch, mainly because it didn't seem to go past a year where someone got severely hurt and bled of the field, was not exactly the best band, but it would do.  
      As Simmons was getting settled, the band director, a blond man with faint pink scars against his tanned skin stepped up to the podium, clearing his throat before speaking in a low voice, "Alright, welcome to Blood Gulch High School's marching band, I am your band director, Sarge, and I will be called Sarge, understand? I'll let the field commanders introduce themselves, but be aware," at this point, Sarge raised a finger, his steel gray eyes narrowing before continuing, "you will respect them, if you disrespect either myself or your three field commanders you will be running laps until you cannot psychically run, understood."    
      Every head nodded, the seniors faces stoic as many of the freshman's faces were ones of fear, looking wide eyed around the room before a freckled, blond hair teen stepped up to the podium, coughing silently before speaking. "Hello, my name is Washington, and I am one of your three drum majors, in concert season I play trombone."  
      A red headed girl stood up next, standing beside Washington, who seemed nervous now. "I am second in charge of the drum majors, I do not take shit from you, and I will not take shit from you. I am Carolina."  
      Simmons eyes widened, murmuring, "They're allowed to curse? In front of Sarge too?" His emerald green eyes widened, as the third and final field commander stepped up to the podium, her brown eyes dark, her hair cut short and neat.  
      "I am Tex, I am your head field commander, you respect me, I'll respect you." With that, her brown eyes flicked toward Carolina, who tensed up at what Tex as had said. It seemed obvious that the two field commanders did not like each other, and the silence in the air became unbearable. It was thick, seeming like it needed to be cut with a knife before Tex spoke again, "Today, you will introduce yourself to everyone, sections pair up and go around in a circle. Clarinets and sousaphones, mellophones and silks, alto saxophones and pit, figure it out for yourselves, it shouldn't be extremely hard."  
      With that, people moved up quickly, not wanting to deal with the anger in Tex's voice. The alto's rushed over to the back of the room as chatter filled the air. Both sections stared at each other before someone from the saxophones cleared his throat, speaking. "Hi, I am Leonard Church, but I prefer to be called Church, I am a senior, and I am the alto section leader," and with that, conversation sparked up quickly.Tucker went next, referring to himself as "the best damn person in this band." Last to go for the alto's was a darker complexion man, his brown hair down to his shoulders as he yawned, "Dexter Grif, call me Grif, and Tucker I'll take you on for that title."  
      "My name is York, if we're going by last names," York said, his brown hair somewhat, "I am the section leader for the pit, I'm pretty cool, in my opening, Carolina always tells me I'm too laid back."  
      It went on like that, people introducing themselves one by one, some telling interesting facts about themselves until it got to Simmons. His face turned red as he started to stutter, murmuring. "I-I'm Richard Simmons, but p-please, call me Simmons..." His face was turning to a shade resembling fire as York laughed.  
      "He's about as red as his hair." Was all that was said, and that's when Simmons decided that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as excited for this marching band as he thought.


	2. Working out Musical Kinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's now the second day of band camp, and it's time to actually work on band related items, but with this band, does any work actually get done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own RvB or Halo.

     After last night, Simmons was not ready to go to his eight am practice session. He had slept around three hours, still nervous and embarrassed after last night. The memories from last night played in his head as the freckled boy showered, his red hair falling into his face has he rinsed, the soapy bubbles going down the drain before shutting off the water. His mother was gone by the time he had stepped out, knowing this from earlier mornings. She made sure he got up, ate a quick breakfast, and then left for her jobs, and wouldn't be home until it was nearly nine at night. She was always busy, but being a single mother with a band kid was not easy, you needed money to pay for trips, for the marching band fee. He groaned at that thought while hurriedly putting on a red tee, the fee this year was around $150 for everything, including the show shirts.

     "Fuck, money is going to be tight for a while." He murmured as he stepped out the door.

     Blood Gulch was a town consisting of a population of 3,000 and four school buildings. Besides those two factors, it has a small, vandalized park, a library filled with series that it will never finish itself, and a few stores and restaurants in the main part of the town. Simmons house was located just about ten minutes from the Blood Gulch High School, home of the worlds shittiest football team in the entire state, according to everyone in the school district.

     Simmons got there at 7:45, heading silently to the folder rack. The band room was filled with chatter and laughter, even being so early in the morning. He looked around, trying to find someone to talk to, he didn't want to be the odd one out, the one that didn't fit in the band. He found York, his voice was hard to ignore. He started over to York before noticing he was laughing with Carolina, the latter not actually laughing, more like glaring at him with a clenched fist, but with upturned corners of her mouth. He shied away from him, his freckled face turning slightly red as he started to head back to the pit section. He noticed Church, being followed around by a blond haired, brown eyed freshman who was known as Caboose. Caboose didn't seem to breathe as he just went ninety to nothing while Church ran his hand through his black hair, groaning.

     It wasn't until he had got ready for the first note that a kid popped in front of the green eyed red head. He gave a friendly smile, his blond hair cut short and his blue eyes shinning as he spoke in a bouncy voice. "Hello! I'm Donut and I saw you were alone, can't leave someone alone, now can we? Oh, I see you play the mallets, I bet your wrist are loose and used to going up and down quickly, I bet the judges will be thrilled to watch you!" He said, not stopping once for air.

     "I-uh- excuse me?" Simmons said, blinking rapidly, flushed a bit now.

     "You know! Your wrist are just great for go-." At that point, Donut was silenced as Tex coughed.

     "It's now eight, practice is starting, get to your sections and take role." With that, everyone rushed to their own sections, papers coming out before a wheezing Grif and a slightly annoyed Tucker burst through the band room doors, bickering.

     "Thanks fuckass, we're late now thanks to your piece of shit car!"

     "Leave Sheila out of this fat ass!"

     "Fix your fucking car and maybe I will!" The Hawaiian teen wheezed out, looking up at the silent room before flicking his eyes to Tex, glaring at the two. With that, they rushed quickly, to get their saxophones out, sitting down.

     Once that was done, and the band was told by Sarge to not be like Grif, Washington got up to the podium, explaining that they were going to start by practicing the music, as the football field was needed at this moment by the football team. He asked them to get their music in show order before stepping off, allowing Tex to step onto the desk that Sarge had provided just for this as Washington and Carolina went either side of her, her voice loud as she counted off and... it was terrible.

     She sighed, cutting off by making a circle and making a fist at the end, she shook her head speaking. "We need to work out the kinks- Tucker if you say anything I swear to whatever is above us I will make sure you can't have any kids."

     "Bow chika no thanks." He replied, laughing before getting an eraser to the head. "Oh no, I'm wounded, oh how will Jr. survive without me." He gurgled out, faking falling out of his chair and onto the ground.

     "Get your blue ass up." A gruff voice commanded as the band room exploded into a fit of laughter while Church just groaned that his best friend is a fucking idiot.

      They continued like that for a while, working the music slowly as a barrage of wrong notes and rhythms were heard nearly every measure. Their first song was Mr. Roboto, with the changing tempo's, it definitely didn't go as well as originally thought. Simmons was having trouble himself, frowning and slightly cursing himself out in his mind. He had to double check his music multiple times while the drum majors seemed to get annoyed at the band, even the originally cool headed Washington had an annoyed expression on his freckled face.

     By the time it was eleven, Tex had already blew a gasket, cursing loudly as she left the band room. Carolina took the podium and nearly faced the same problem, but she just simply sighed, asked for a ten minute break, and went out with York trailing her, trying to calm her down. When she came back, she looked at the clock, asked them to get their shit and leave, saying, "Be back here by one, don't break the law, don't break anything unless you're pissed off and wanna break plates then do it but don't break yourselves."

     "What is with this band..." Simmons trailed off, muttering to himself as Donut bounced up to him, another boy in tow. He smiled and introduced him as Doc, saying that he was going to go to medical school and be the best doctor ever. The boy flushed slightly at that, muttering something that was ignored.

     "Well, anyway, I'll see you at one!" Donut said, bouncing away with Doc still.

      Simmons sighed, walking away and out the door before running into a body, falling to the ground. He let out a small puff of air as a voice above him spoke.

      "Well look at that, I got a guy falling for me already."

      "Calm yourself, Tucker, he ran into you. You have no one falling for you, and you probably never have."

      "Oh, Church, I am so hurt, I'm so hurt that I think I'll just punch the shit out of you."

     "Tex will beat your ass."

     That shut Tucker up, grumbling as two laughs could be heard. Simmons looked up, still on the ground from being slightly stunned before noticing Church and... what was his name? Grif, right? It was Grif laughing. He had a senior and a sophomore laughing at him. He quickly stood up, apologizing before running out of the school building.

     "Poor kid, he'll have to get over his shyness if he'll want to have any fun in this band." Church said, shaking his head, "He was like that last night, remember? After York laughed at him the kid barely said anything else."

     "Eh, the Freshies are weird this year." Grif replied.

      Simmons ran home, making it home in about seven minutes. He was angry, angry at himself for being embarrassed that he ran into Tucker, furious that they had the audacity to laugh at him! People fell all the time! It's not that funny. What if he had been hurt? He wouldn't be able to play, and then his mother would have to pay the hospital bills... No, that can't happen.

      "Next time this happens I'll tell them off, besides, who stands right in front of doors any way?" He questioned himself as he went to go make himself lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for already giving this fic attention whoa! This chapter was a pain to write but here it is. I'm not sure how my updating schedule will be but I'll try to update at least once or twice a week?


	3. Let's Try This Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Counting is hard. Rhythms are hard. Math is hard. Band in general is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Red Vs Blue, or Halo.

     It was now one fifteen, and half of the band still hasn't arrived yet for the one o'clock practice. Simmons noticed the room to be half full, blinking silently as he watched Tex and Carolina bickering silently about what the punishment should be for the late ones as kids slowly stumbled into the class. He looked around, surprised at the fact that Grif and Tucker were seated, and not late. It looked like Grif was slowly chewing on a snake cake as Tucker was talking to a freshman silk. It was fairly easy to understand what Tucker was saying, considering how loud he was, Simmons learned that quickly, but it was a bit much when he yelled at the kid.

     "I seriously fucking hate you, Palomo, I really fucking hate you. I haven't known you more than two days and I already fucking hate you."

     "Sir, I seriously doubt that."

     "Don't call me sir! I'm not that much older than you!"

     "Alright Si-."

     "Get over to the silks, Palomo." Tex said as she got up to the podium, coughing to grab everyone's attention. The room went silent as eyes of all shades and colors flicked to the head drum major. "Alright, we're going to start, since a good forty percent of the fucking band is here, we'll just start, get out what we worked on this morning." She paused, allowing the room to be filled with the sounds of paper fluttering around on stands before continuing with a new sentence. "We'll take this slowly, and by slowly, I mean slowly." She added emphasis on the last word, her dark eyes menacing as nods went around the room.

     It went well, for the first two or three measures before it crashed and burned. The trombones were all having trouble watching, the cowbell was too quiet, and a kid started crying because she got hit in the head with an eraser for saying that they needed more cowbell, which made the room burst into laughter as Carolina chucked the eraser. Washington, who was at first seemingly calm, ended up getting annoyed at how it continued to crash and burn before leaving to go sit in the closet, muttering curse words under his breath the entire way before Tex suggested the went after him to make sure he broke nothing, and Carolina saying that they should work in sectionals because obviously this isn't fucking working.

     The sectionals didn't seem to go much better, with very few minutes actually spent working. The flutes had a stream of running sixteenth notes they just couldn't master, the clarinets dealing with a tricky measure, and the drumline working repeatedly over the same five measures before giving up. The pit seemed to be the only one working after just thirty minutes, with the drum majors still in the closet. Simmons arms were starting to get tired, as more kids had eventually made their way to the small band room. They joined in, and it slowly got better with the missing sounds added in.

     "Alright, how about you guys go get some water?" Said York, rolling his wrists while he spoke, trying to loosen them up. "I'm sure your wrists are killing you right now, and I'd like to make sure Carolina hasn't murdered Tex and or Wash." With that, he sped off to the closet, knocking quietly before peeking in.

    Simmons wasn't sure exactly what to do, everyone was on their phones as he came back from drinking water, his section leader was gone, and he didn't want to bother anyone by trying to start a conversation with them. He sighed, sitting down and pulling out his game. He played quietly, oblivious to the world before a tapping sensation was felt on his back. He glanced back, and saw Grif.

    "What game are you playing?" He asked, trying to peak over the freshman's shoulder but damn, is he short compared to the rest of his class. He seemed curious, his brown eyes wide as his finger was pointed to the game.

     "T-This? It's an older game... Why?" He questioned back, shutting the lid of the system before looking at the Hawaiian teenager, noticing his chubby cheeks were puffed out at this point.

     "Does it matter, I was looking around the band room trying to find Tex or Carolina to ask if I can use the pisser but saw you playing instead, I was curious, no need to get bitchy about it."

     "Calm down... Why don't you go ask Sarge?" Asked the red head, annoyed now. He's only had one actual conversation with the kid and he's already annoying with him? Simmons was sure Grif and him wouldn't get along for all that mattered.

     "You kidding? Sarge hates my guts. He's trying to make my life a living hell." He replied, looking over Simmons, which made the boy flush. "I'm just gonna go, if Carolina or Tex eventually come out of the closet-" he snorted, thinking that what he had said was funny, "tell them I'm in the bathroom."

     With that, Grif was gone, rushing out of the band room as fast as he's ran in quite a while. Simmons shook his head, his red hair falling into his face as Washington came out of the closet, causing Tucker to scream, saying that he called it before getting flipped off by the before mention Washington.

    "If you wanna, anytime." Tucker responded, causing Washington to blush furiously, his freckles becoming even more prominent.

    Soon after that, out came Tex, followed by Carolina and York. All three seemed to be in a better mood than before, but it was hard to tell on Tex's face if she was better or not. Tex took the desk again, showing them the metronome before starting it, saying. "Metronome will be my new best friend, and all of yours as well."

     With the metronome, it ran a tad bit smoother, as in this time they were able to actually, although extremely poorly, get through the first song. Tex glanced at the clock, noticing it was nearing three, then sighed.

    "We all need tonight off. I want you all to practice, and start thinking of tie dye shirts for the picnic. Remember, eight am tomorrow morning. If you're late, you're running with Sarge commanding the laps." She said, then dismissed the band.

   Simmons picked up his music, placing them in his folder before setting down the mallets, rolling his wrist once again. Hopefully he could get home with no distractions, that includes bumping into upperclassmen, and especially not getting laughed at.

   The last thing he heard before leaving the band room was Tucker going, "Come on Wash, you love me, I love you. I love a good 617 boy."

   "Tucker you're literally aware that everyone in this band has 617 before their number."

   "You're special."

   "Lavernius Tucker."

   "Fine, fine."

   As Simmons was walking home from the band camp, he heard footsteps behind him. He slowly picked up speed, as well as the person following him. He started getting freaked out. Blood Gulch wasn't a bad place, but it could be possible... right? He turned to face his persuer, coming face to face with a wheezing Grif.

   "Damn, slow the fuck down kid." He wheezed out, clutching his chest before standing straighter, holding out Simmons' gaming system. "You forgot this."

    "Thank you, uh, Grif." He replied, taking the system and nodding a bit before watching Grif go. Thinking that, maybe Grif wasn't all that bad before looking down, noticing chocolate residue and cheese powder on the top on the system, cursing Grif out the entire way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I feel like this chapter wasn't as good as the last two, whoops.   
> The chapter summary is based off of an inside joke from band that the entire band uses still to this day. I'm glad you all are enjoying this so far! Thank you all for reading.


	4. This is What it's Supposed to Sound Like?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So you're telling me that if you actually practice that it sounds like it's supposed to? Apparently the band didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own RvB or Halo.  
> It's been a week since the last update and I'm sorry for that. It's been pretty hectic with getting ready for finals, but thankfully school is over this Friday, and I'll have a few days to write before Summer School starts.

     "How is marching band coming along?" Simmons was asked while sitting at the island in his kitchen, his mom looking at him. A smile was on her face, her normally up hair finally down now that she was home.

     "It's only the second day." He replied, not looking up from his sheet music as he marked it with a pencil. Scribbles that were supposed to be numbers marked pages.

     "That doesn't mean anything, Richard." Her voice called out from the fridge, shuffling around to make some type of quick dinner. It was  currently nine, and she had just gotten home from her second job. She was tired, and Simmons could tell that, it was obvious in her voice, the way she moved, and her eyes.

     "Mom, why don't you go to bed, I'll make something to snack on before I go to bed as well, besides, I'm currently taking up most of the island with this." He said, glancing back toward his mother. She nodded, moving to hug him and place a kiss on his cheek before moving out of the kitchen.

     Simmons stood up, stretching his arms before grabbing an apple, wiping it off on his shirt, he thought. He thought about the band, and it's members before murmuring. "They're all so strange. The only one that seems like they're alright is Tex, and that's a maybe." Shaking his head, he sat back down at the island, "And don't get me started on the altos."

     At seven thirty the next morning, he was out the door, music in bag, as well as his games. He was hoping for a successful practice, but from what he had seen last night, he wasn't exactly sure that that would be happening. It was a nice day, and he hoped that this signified that maybe it would be a nice practice, but when he got into the band room, getting his music ready and everything, his hope was crushed. Half of the kids were not there yet, and those that were are just chatting up a storm. Even Tex, who normally was sitting on the desk was chatting with Church about something, the corners of her mouth were turned up as Church just rubbed the back of his neck.

    At eight, the band as all here, in place with music ready to go. It was shocking, but as Simmons asked why, North whispered from the drumline area, "Tex is scary as hell, and we hate running."

    It started well, surprisingly. They made it, roughly through their first song. It took many times stopping, and starting, many times of sections having to work solo while Tex stepped off the desk to help another section, but they did it. It went smooth enough that all the drum majors let out a small exhale of relief. Tex started again with the show opener, making sure that it wasn't a lucky mistake, and it wasn't. The band had actually went home and either worked on their music, or just not played if they didn't know how to play a section in the song. 

   At eleven, the rehearsal was finished. Everyone got up, and the room exploded into a chatterfest. Talks about what section is doing what color shirt, about where to go for lunch, about how to fix an issue. It was actually welcomed by Simmons, who even joined in when York asked for a color. Maine just grunted in agreement with Simmons, which made the lanky kid smile. Maine barely agreed with anyone or anything, unless it's dealing with his cat, Gamma, apparently. 

   As Simmons finished putting his music up, Donut tapped on his shoulder, a smile wide on his face. "Simmons! A bunch of the sections are getting together for lunch, including the pit, you coming?"

   He nodded, a smile slightly on his face. He was finally feeling appreciated and wanted in the band. He hurriedly followed Donut to where the large group of people were, catching the tail end of the conversation of where they were going.

    "Please tell me we're driving there." A voice, Grif, said. His hair pulled back into a small ponytail while a girl, his sister maybe, stood beside him in the shortest pair of shorts Simmons had seen.

    "Grif, it won't kill you to walk, it's only two blocks away." Replied Washington, "Besides, we're in marching band, walking's nothing compared to marching."

    "Marching's different though, because I willing chose to do this." Retorted Grif, arms crossed over his orange shirt.

    "Dude, if you can find a ride, that's cool, but we're all walking." Tucker spoke up, standing next to Washington.

    "Why the fuck are you walking, you're about as lazy as I am."

    "Shut the fuck up, Fatass."

    "Make me."

    Tucker stood there, exasperated. Angrily, he turned on his heel, walking out of the door spewing curse words. Palomo stood up, getting ready to follow him when Washington sighed, following Tucker out.

    Simmons watched the scene wide eyed before murmuring as the group walked out the door, Grif tailing behind still whining. "Why am I doing this. I know I wanted to feel wanted in the band but dealing with this will kill me."

    So he trailed behind as well, listening to the whining of Grif in front of him, and the chatter of Donut and Doc beside him. He felt bad for Doc, Donut seemed like he didn't need to breathe while talking.

   "I've made a mistake." He said, looking ahead of him, looking at the throng of band kids, at Grif, at the two beside him. "I should've just not tried to fit in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is short and terrible whoops.


	5. Early Morning Practices and the first After School Sectional.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all hate early morning practices.  
> We all hate sectionals.  
> Band kids hate just about everything, if you want to hear the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own RvB.

     The rest of band camp went pretty smooth, as sections grew closer together, and already relationships spouted up. Simmons himself had already been confessed to, by a pretty blonde named Jensen, but he tried responding all he did was blush, stutter and slink away. He watched at Jensen stood there, a dumbfounded look on her face as she held a flower for him in her hands. He felt bad, afterwords, but avoided her the rest of the day.

     Now, it was the second day of school, at seven in the morning. People were groggily standing on the field, instruments either in hand or on the ground as people whined about it being too early to be awake, much less marching. Washington looked half asleep on the box, while Carolina and Tex bickered about something, both girls hands moving in what seemed to be conducting for their first song before Carolina screamed, hopping off the box and walking past the silks.

     Tex's voice rang out, her hands out in front of her as Wash snapped to attention, his hands in the same position, "Let's start with our warm up and stretches."

     Simmons frowned slightly, before rubbing his left shoulder. It was a prosthetic arm that he received from an accident a few years ago, and while he informed Sarge and the drum majors, he somehow forgot to inform York. It was too late right now to inform him, because the stretches had already begun, and York seemed really into them? He didn't question it. So, while slowly doing the stretches before sighing, glad they were over when they ended.

     That practice went as smooth as a morning practice on the second day of school can go. You had kids falling asleep on the field, flags hitting themselves and others with their flags or rifles. So much shit happened that Sarge actually called them in early, and everyone let out a sleepy cheer. The sounds of feet trampling off the turf woke people up more, now there was laughter and talking.

     Simmons helped wheeled things back up to the school building, his shoulder hurting. "It's going to rain today..." He murmured, getting a look from both Maine and York.

     Once the entire band was settled down, Sarge got onto the podium, clearing his throat. "Alright, listen up. Sectionals start tomorrow, understand? Get your schedule's worked out, and if you want to work as a large group, go for it, but I need data that you did have or one or else." With that, he went to his office.

     Immediately, section leaders huddled together chattering and whispering, heads nodding or shaking before they broke as quickly as the circle formed. Each section leader reported back to their section, and York started. "We'll start tomorrow, the Alto's will be practicing the same time as us. That's all."

     That day went well with Simmons, his classes were fairly easy as far as he was concerned, and the early morning practice that day was inside because of the weather. It seemed like it wouldn't go wrong, his first week of high school was going how he planned it to be. That was, until the sectional.

     It went well for a while before Grif started whining, and Tucker kept checking out Washington, and the fact that Church couldn't control his section. York sighed, not exactly thrilled about watching over both his section and the alto's. It eventually calmed down, minus Grif's consistent and obnoxious whining. Simmons has had enough, and he snapped at the sophomore, before murmuring an apology. Grif glared at him, his brown eyes on green before looking away, muttering something under his breath. 

     It ended at four, and as Simmons was getting his stuff together, Grif walked up to him tapping lightly on a shoulder. "Hey, Freshie, you don't have the right to snap at me."

     "I do when you're whining for having to stay after school."

     "I whine daily, no one gives a fuck anymore."

     "Hm." Simmons said, not looking at Grif anymore.

     Grif followed him, rambaling on about how Simmons should respect Grif, and how it's rude to tell people to "Shut the fuck up," and ended with Simmons being called a dick to which he replied with "don't wear my name out, you jerk."

     "Wait, your name is Dick?" Grif asked, a snicker could be heard along with his voice.

     "We introduced ourselves before, remember Dexter Grif?"

     "Well... yeah."

     Simmons stopped, he was at his house and Grif was still behind him. He turned to face the saxophonist, glaring. "And now, I would like it if you left me the fuck alone." He said before leaving the confused saxophonist outside of the house.

     "That asshole better be glad he's kinda cute." Grif murmured under his breath as he dialed Tucker up, asking him for a ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all hate early morning practices no matter who you are you probably hate them too.
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter! I hope you all are still enjoying this.
> 
> Twitter/Tumblr: Washalina

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter of my first fanfiction on here! This is going to be interesting. I've never seen a marching band au to be honest, or if I have I've forgotten it, so I decided to write one myself.


End file.
